Highway Hooligans

Jake floored what was left of their once-proud Dynamite E5, the driveshaft rattling and banging against the floorpan of the car, as the driver’s side windshield wiper shuddered across the glass, and the hazard lights continued to flash. “You’re not going to pass us!” he said, driving hard despite only having the passenger side headlight to see with. Every bump in the road sounded like they drove over a canyon, and steam was rising from under the hood.

They hit the curb and bounced their way into the parking lot, forcing the Erin Berlose station wagon wide and giving Team Southend-or-Bust a difficult decision to make, between having a big accident mere feet from the finish line, or backing off.

The instant after they crossed the line, a wad of soaking wet toilet paper hit the windshield. “Aw, fuck me.” Jake said, as the windshield wiper hit the toilet paper and it ended up smearing over the window. “Can’t fucking see, and of course nothing fuckin’ works on this car anymore.”

There was a sudden loud bang, and another from inside the car as the driver’s side set of side-curtain airbags fired. “What the fuck!?” Trevor yelled, only to dive for cover as the windshield picked up a star-burst pattern from another flying potato. Several more chemically-accelerated spuds slammed into the side of the car, and Jake made a dive for a parking space to escape the incoming fire. One of the potatoes hit the last remaining headlight, and Jake ran over a toolbox, a cooler, and ripped the rear bumper off on the engine block laying in the parking lot. He hit the parking divider hard, and slammed into a light-pole, releasing all of the steam from the radiator in an instant.

When the team finally managed to bail out of the car, however, it was obvious how badly damaged the car really was, even before they had been hit by flying potatoes. Jake shoved open his door, and the door panel fell off, carrying with it the window switches and the map pocket, and when Cody opened the other front door, the dashboard tipped sideways and collapsed partly into the footwell. Trevor slid the rear door back the hard way, as the electric power door opening mechanism didn’t work anymore.

DING!“Y-Y-Your keys are are are are Error.”

For a few seconds, nothing more sounded from the dashboard, only for a final message to play.

DING! DING! DING!“Total System Failure. Vehicle Inoperable.”

“Yeah, we kinda knew that, Ivan.” Cody said. As the three of them cleared out what little they cared to grab from the car, the car alarm started going off, and nothing they could do would stop it.

“Someone pull the hood release.” Trevor said. “Can’t, Trev. The dashboard’s fallen on the release lever and it won’t move. And it’s blocking the fuse-box.” Jake replied, grabbing the tool kit from under the driver’s seat.

Thankfully, in the car’s battered condition, the battery didn’t last too long, and the car eventually went silent. The remaining members of the Highway Hooligans settled around a table isolated from the others, excluded from the party.

“So, what’s the big plan?” Jake asked, after a few minutes of looking over their bags, boxes, and supplies.

“Whaddya mean, ‘What’s the big plan?’ We’re stuck here with no way home, and it’s clear none of these guys are gonna give us three a ride to Chicago.” Trevor said.

“Was just thinking about something my brother always used to say.” Cody stated. “Always used to say, “When everything’s going wrong, you can always trust in good tools.” Never understood that stupid phrase, but I think he was trying to tell me something.” He reached over and grabbed the toolbox that Jake had rescued from under the seat. Cody opened the toolbox and found $2500 tucked away behind the screwdrivers.

“Well, it’s not much, but… It’s a start.” Jake said.

“Truth be told, despite him being family, I see no reason to waste this bailing his dumb ass out of jail. $2,500 is good enough to get something kinda reliable-ish to get us home. Or to hop busses most of that way. Might even be enough for three tickets, one way, on an airplane.” Cody said.

“A bit harsh, but to be fair, he didn’t need to jeopardize the whole race by having a conflict with the grannymobile, either.” Trevor said. “Plus, let’s face it, stealing our purple anodized wheel nuts, that didn’t seem like their kind of thing.”

“So, plane, bus, or shitbox?” Jake asked.

“Not sure. But it looks like the other teams are taking it out on that car over there.” Trevor said.

“You know, I’m feeling mean. Let Marcus deal with the impound fees on no cash. We’ve got a bit of money, let’s get some cheap shitbox and drive home. After we get a hotel room, and a shower.” Cody said.

Trevor nodded, then opened his bag and took out four bottles of beer. “Bought these before the trip even started. Was going to be for when we won, but I suppose finishing is as much a victory as actually winning.” he said, before passing two of the bottles over. “I suppose we’ve got a spare, but only one spare.”

“Not on my fuckin’ watch.” Cody said, taking the spare bottle.

Thank you to @VicVictory for hosting this challenge, and you can count on me to join the next one of these.

I just need to decide on whether we see a return of Twin-Snail or whether a different team will shine…

As Blake approached the three remaining members of the Highway Hooligans, Cody looked up, then smiled and offered the fourth beer. “Thanks! We, well, won’t be needing the trailer. The car’s registered to Marcus, my brother, who got into… We’ll just say an ‘altercation’ and is probably somewhere in an Oregon State jail cell. As he left us with pretty much no money until after the challenge was done, we’re gonna leave the car here so he gets stuck with the impound fees. After all, he has a credit card.” Cody said.

Jake smiled, then said, “We’re from Chicago, so, long as we can get close, we’ll do fine. We were going to use this cash to buy a junker and drive it back, but, we’ll pay our way in gas, I suppose. The car’s a write-off. Even if it wasn’t falling apart, the driveshaft’s screwed up, and Barlow Road ripped it up something fierce.”

Trevor nodded, before adding in, “Plus, you wouldn’t probably want to transport that car too far. The trunk’s probably still full of fireworks. We didn’t get to use them all up, and we’d rather not get you guys in trouble for transporting those across several state lines. We’re planning on letting Marcus worm his way out of this. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten out of trouble with the law. Last time was '95, he had me fix up this stupid green Dynamite XR-3 for some ridiculous race…”

“Yeah, let’s not talk his ear off, Trevor. Short answer is, my brother was a street racer, and he’s got a bit of a really bad temper. We’re letting him face the music, and leaving him the car in the condition it currently is.” Cody said. “But the three of us really need a hotel room before we even think of heading back. We stink, and if we tried to ride back now, we’d be sleeping in your truck.”

Otis and Jake are busy picking up tools and parts and putting them back into the tool boxes when the unmistakable sound of the Hooligans car can be heard approaching.

Otis, “Well damn I didn’t expect their car to survive to the finish” he looks in the direction of the approaching racket “Maybe survive is a bit too strong of a word for that thing”

Jake runs towards the finish line with the giant spit-wad of toilet paper and hurls it at the Dynamites windshield. Half a second later he leaps out of the path of the speeding car when he realizes that now they cant see where they are going.

The car slams into a tool box that he and Otis had been spending the last couple of hours gathering its contents back up, scattering everything including parts of the box all over the parking lot again, then hits the beer cooler destroying the remnants of the remaining crap beer before hitting the engine block sending it tumbling into the side of a parked car.

Otis, “Didn’t think that one through did ya”

Jake, “Do I ever”

Otis, “Nope, lets go see if their ok then go inside and get something to eat.”

Jake, “What about all the stuff.”

Otis, “Pretty sure the cops are coming after all the racket, let them keep an eye on it.”

At that Otis and Jake invite even the Hooligans to sit with them to celebrate and exchange stories.

Team ‘Southend Or Bust’

The finishing line was in sight. The boys were feeling confident. Just half a mile to go.

Seb was at the wheel. “Yo guys, look” he said, pointing ahead. A lime green Dynamite E-5 was limping along the road. “That must be one of the other teams”.

Martin, sitting in the back, leaned forward. “We can pass them, easily” he said, assessing that something was clearly wrong with the drive train.

James grabbed his sunglasses - which oddly, he hadn’t been wearing too much this journey - and slid them on. “Floor it” he said.

Seb grabbed the shifter and rammed the autobox into the ‘gear 2’ selector. The 2.2l inline 6 gave a war cry in response, and Nancy lurched forward.

Realising what was going on, the Highway Hooligans floored it. Both cars were neck and neck for a good 100 metres, Nancy unable to pull forward because she was an underpowered land yacht, and the E5 unable to pull ahead because it was on the brink of self-destruction.

Suddenly, the E5 bounced and came hurtling towards the side of the Berlose. Seb yanked the wheel hard to the left, straight into the opposite lane.

“Seb pull back for fucks sake!” Martin yelped. There was an oncoming car that they were ploughing towards.

Seb hit the brakes and pulled back in behind the E5, which gained enough of a lead to finish well ahead of them. Nancy steamed across the line shortly afterwards. Seb parked and turned the ignition off.

They looked back a few minutes later to see it was on fire, with the team frantically trying to rescue the car.

“Shit” said James.

“Are you just going to keep speaking in short, ‘cool’ phrases now?” said Martin, mockingly making quotation marks with his fingers.

“I’m wearing my sunglasses, mate. I have to” he replied.

“Really now?” said Seb. “Because it ain’t working for shit”.

“You seriously need to practice your English slang phrases. That sounded like Google Translate trying to pronounce it” he retorted. James took his glasses off.

“Well hey, we did it, again” said Martin. “Did we actually end up winning anything this time?”

Seb reached into the glovebox and showed Martin the time keeping papers. They were completely empty.

Martin chuckled. “Well, that does that then”.

–

“Wait so how the hell did we win best average time?” said Martin, still trying to work it out.

“Not a clue. Must be good luck. Nancy’s a good ride it seems” said James.

“Shame we’ll have to sell her” said Seb. “But, we should get our money back, right?”

“Hopefully” said Martin.

James had spotted Team Ricebox parked nearby. “Right boys, we’ve got one night left before our flight leaves and I’m not wasting it, catch you later” he said in a rush, before running over to the yellow PRJ.

Another awesome competition @VicVictory, thanks for hosting! Well done to all the other teams who actually managed to survive to the end, and commiserations to those who didn’t. Looking forward to another one of these in the future at some point.